Everything was belated yesterday as I didn't get to properly wish my best friend a Happy 27th Birthday and now just feel like a tool trying to do anything today.
I was also belated in celebration of National Running Day. I was unaware that this was a holiday, first of all, so I really couldn't plan too well. If I had known, I would have surely set my alarm, coffee maker, second alarm, tv, and third alarm to go off from 5:00-5:25 am in order to pay homage to the running gods. Had that ritual not worked out, I would have thrown a set of running gear into my car for late night affair with the dreadmill.
So, when class ended at 7:45pm and I was enviously watching runners on Kelly Drive from my traffic-ridden vantage point on the Vine Street/76 merge and the daylight slowly faded, I was feeling like the worst running worshipper ever. I should have been prepared. It felt like Thanksgiving without turkey. National Running Day and I didn't run.
I reminded myself that I was purposely unprepared because this is a rest week. Wednesday was supposed to a well-earned rest day and if running has taught me anything -- it's the value of rest. Because on Saturday I completed my fourth half marathon in less than year. That is two whole marathons, in my mathmatically-challenged opinion.
Last night, my third toenail came off and ruined my pedicure. And that was my offering to National Running Day deities. I will continue to offer my sweat (lots and lots and lots) and blood, probably some tears, frustrations and joy to the great sport of running for the next 365 days as long as it continues to reward me with calm, motivation, and not having to buy new pants every season.
I love running and will always be a bear-fearing/slow-pacing/race-loving/mid-packing mess who calls herself a runner. I restarted my running ritual this morning and went for nice and easy four mile out/back. I'm calling it nice and easy because "Proud Mary" by Tina Turner showed up on my playlist like four times. It was really muggy and slow.